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makexpressions

I am a Freak

October 4, 2011


Last Thursday I faced and conquered three phobias that I have struggled with for the past (nearly) 40 years.  And it was done in the most obscure and unsuspecting way, all at the same time.  It was my dentist's birthday.


I do admit most of my phobias are a little on the unconventional side.


I have had ligyrophobia since I was in elementary school, maybe even earlier.  I remember a fourth of July celebration and the fear of sudden, loud noises overcame the spectactular light display the fireworks provided.  My poor mother attempted to muffle the firework explosions by covering my ears with a towel.  After a half hour, I am sure she would have preferred using the towel to muffle my screams of panic or mop up my puddles of tears.  My latest issue with this phobia?  Pillsbury Crescent Rolls, Biscuits, Cinnamon Rolls, really anything in a pressurized tube.  I am ashamed to say I have my KIDS open them for me while I cower with ears plugged.  I am so not joking.


I haven't determined if my globophobia is a real fear or if it is simply an extension of the ligyrophobia.  But I absolutely HATE balloons.  I don't like blowing them up, I don't like the squeaking sound fingers make when they touch them and I nearly wet myself when they spontaneously pop.  This I have struggled with for a very long time but this also seems to be getting worse as I age.  I am still a good mom - I still order the balloons for my kids' birthday parties.  I am just practical in that I make my husband pick up the balloon bouquets.  I mean it is for the safety of the public - God forbid I am driving down the street, a balloon pops, I have a coronary and cause a car accident.  Yes, these are the things a phobic thinks of in an attempt to avoid their fear.


I had expertly hid this fear for nearly 40 years from everyone even family (except my husband, of course) until one day during a bridal shower when I tried to refuse to play a stupid game where we had to WRITE on a balloon.  (Really?  What sadist thinks these things up anyway?)  Apparently saying "I have globophobia, a fear of balloons" just gets you taunted and teased by cousins, aunts and Grandma.  Oh well, I played the damn game, and the balloon did not make me wet myself, so fear faced.


My third fear is dentophobia (or odontophobia in some books) and I found out that this one is not so uncommon.  For me this fear is fairly new in my life.  My first cavity didn't come until about 10 years ago, after I gave birth to my beautiful daughter.  At that time I was going to a dentist that didn't really listen very well to his patients when they said "that sound of metal scraping my teeth is making me uncomfortable".  I didn't have a mercy signal so maybe my statement was not understood with all the drilling, drooling and slurping.  In any case, I DREADED going to the dentist and I shamefully used every excuse in the book to cancel (no not postpone) my visits.  And even though I changed dentists to one who is the husband of a friend and very professional and listens to his patients and one I recommend frequently, visiting him at his office is still not my favorite thing.  Sorry Matt!  But I never cancel or even postpone and I take care of my teeth like CRAZY - I brush, floss, rinse, and spit, not necessarily in that order!  I don't need any additional time listening to the scrape, scrape, scrape like fingernails on a chalkboard.  Ugh!  But I haven't had a cavity in nearly 10 years until now.


This brings me back to my dentist's birthday.


Yes, walking in for a filling the entire lobby is blanketed with black balloons!  (Apparently my dentist turns the big 4-0 the same year as I do.)  Breathe in, breath out, I will not panic.  Just get to the reception desk.  "I am here," I say and think, I will not freak out.  I am able to walk to a chair without setting off any minor explosions.  I made it.  I can do this.


Then the door opens, in comes a mother with 3 kids under the age of 7.  Squeals of delight, "Mommy, BAAALLLLOOOONNNNSSS!!!"  Breathe in, breathe out.  Maybe they won't pick up any...  squeak, squeak, OK maybe they will handle all of the over-inflated orbs.  Please do not let me wet myself if one goes off.  I close my eyes trying desperately to block out the sounds of my own inner thoughts of panic and pandemonium and soon I hear my name, spoken by my angel, the hygenist.  I love her.  Dental lady, do you know a phobic loves you?  Even if you are going to scrape my teeth.


Written by

-A Freak

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